Two Wolves
by sablecain
Summary: Sequel to "Samaritan's Choice"- Someone's out for revenge and Ezra is his target.
1. Chapter 1

Two Wolves

Sequel to "Samaritan's Choice"- should probably read that one first for better understanding of events in this one. Written for the 2010 M7bigbang

Disclaimer- no copyright infringement intended with use of M7 characters.

Thank you to NT for betaing!

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_He jerked with each blow. Swaying from the branch they'd tied him to. His wrists were slick and numb where the rope cut into them. His shoulder excruciating as each movement wrenched it awkwardly, bone grinding against bone. His leg burned and throbbed in time with his racing heart. _

_There were questions, demands that he didn't have the strength to answer and details that he wouldn't share even if he did. _

_Then he was falling. Screaming as he hit the ground hard. Someone kicked him and before he could recover, the strap wrapped around his neck. He struggled against it, but it was cinched tight, choking him, cutting off his air, pulling his head up from the dirt, straining his neck even as someone planted a foot between his shoulder blades and held the rest of his torso in place. _

_He gasped for breath,_ _but the belt tightened. Something hard bit the back of his neck. His vision dimmed. He heard the angry voice yelling at him to answer, but he had no voice. _

_No air._

_No sight._

_He was going to die. _

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Ezra jerked awake with a huge gasp for breath, pushing himself up and out of the bed. Outside, thunder rocked the night, so close and so loud the floor shook beneath his bare feet.

It was a dream.

Just a dream.

He tried to calm himself, jumping as another boom of thunder rattled the windows.

It wasn't a dream, reality reminded him as his thigh throbbed and his shoulder cramped achingly. It was a memory.

Shakily, Standish felt his way across his room to the rocking chair beside the window. Lightning split the sky and illuminated the small room for a second, providing reassurance that he wasn't going to run into anything. He picked up a quilt, a gift left for him by Mrs. Potter and wrapped it around his bare torso. Comforted by its warmth, he sat in the chair and watched as the storm opened up a deluge on the sleeping town.

It'd been almost a month since the attack outside of Bainbridge. His wounds were mostly healed. His wrists bore only fine, fading scars. His thigh only pained him if he spent much time on his feet or in one position, but his shoulder ached continually, especially when it rained.

Reaching up with his good arm, Ezra gently massaged the strained, abused joint still trying to chase away the fear left over from the dream…the flashback.

Lightning crackled again, followed by a rumbling crash.

Outside, he saw movement and watched as Vin darted through the downpour. Tanner's wagon wasn't water tight. Not for rain this hard. Ezra wondered if the tracker would seek shelter in the jailhouse where JD was on duty for the night.

Wincing, Ezra squeezed a particularly tender spot on his shoulder. He'd never told the others the details of his attack. He'd claimed not to remember all of it. Recognizing Tom Wyler and knowing that his attackers had been after the land deeds, that'd been enough to stop any other questions. He couldn't find the words to tell them anything more. They knew enough, almost everything.

They knew about him being strung up and beaten. They knew about the belt. It was the little things he hadn't shared. The way Wyler had placed the gun to his head and pulled the trigger, laughing when the chamber echoed emptily. Or the fact that they'd dragged him by the neck, forcing him to scramble on his dislocated shoulder and wounded leg before they'd stomped on his back, holding him down while they'd simultaneously pulled his neck up, virtually hanging him as he lay in the dirt, broken and bleeding.

There was no way Ezra could share it all. No way he could ever tell the other six men he respected and fought beside, how very helpless he'd felt in those moments. How he had been so resigned to die.

He had been ready to give up, to let go. He'd prayed for it to end. He'd been ready and willing to run out on all of them.

Shame and fear ate at him now to remember the pain, terror and desolation. His weakness. It wormed into his mind and nagged at him, drawing him into a melancholy hopelessness he couldn't seem to shake.

As the rain continued and the thunder and lightning fought, Ezra battled his own demons of fear and anger. Whoever was behind his attack was still out there somewhere in the night. Larabee suspected Guy Royal, but there was no proof. Standish knew that Wyler had had a contact back here in Four Corners. He wondered still if he was a target. A loose end waiting to be tied up and finished off.

Fear clinched at him and Ezra pulled the quilt tighter around his trembling frame. If he could, he'd never leave his room again, but he knew that wouldn't work. None of his fellow peacekeepers would leave him be if he even tried that plan of action.

Instead, in the morning, he'd paste on a smile and take a seat downstairs. He'd force himself to eat breakfast, to avoid unwanted inquiries over his health and to go through the motions of living while the past haunted every moment of his days and nights.

Weary and overwhelmed with a depression he couldn't fight, Ezra stayed in the motionless rocking chair and watched the storm rage outside even as it raged within.

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Ezra eyed himself carefully in the mirror, making sure his green jacket set squarely and was buttoned correctly. Other than the dark circles beneath bloodshot eyes, and hair that was a little too long for a gentleman, he looked normal.

His room was dim in the gray morning light. Rain continued to fall outside, thundered continued to rumble. He hadn't bothered to light a lamp as he got ready for the day. He didn't want to see the scarce furnishings or be reminded that he was still trying to replace items destroyed when his room had been ransacked. He reached out and ran gentle fingers over the waxy carved surface of the jade ball he'd won before the attack, tracing the detailed dragon's tail. His fingers trembled slightly and he paused, squeezing his hand into a tight fist and relaxing again, pleased to see he'd regained some control. Quickly, he put on his gun belt, suppressing shiver when he touched the cold metal of the of the buckle. One more deep breath and he was ready to head downstairs.

Because of the rain, the saloon was packed. Many of the new settlers were still in town, stocking up on supplies and preparing before heading out to their new homesteads. Though Ezra had protected the land deeds it'd taken time to sort out the deeds and get them to their proper owners. Judge Travis was being meticulous about the process and it had dragged the procedure out by days. Most of the newcomers were still clearing their land and living in town until that part of the task was completed. A small 'wagon village' had been set up on the south side of the burg where the settlers had circled their wagons.

This morning, as Ezra made his way carefully down the stairs, it seemed as if there were a couple of hundred people crammed into the place. Ezra knew that was impossible, but for the first time in a very long time, Ezra was antsy and nervous in the crowd instead of ready to embrace it.

"Morning Ezra!" Buck's boisterous greeting sounded over the other noisy patrons. Ezra forced a smile.

"Good Morning, Mr. Wilmington. Mr. Sanchez."

Buck nodded over his plate, waving his fork in the air and talking with his mouthful. "Grab an order from Inez while she's still got food."

"I'm fine thank you." Ezra pulled out a chair and sat beside Josiah who was busy devouring his own meal.

A cup of steaming tea and a plate of toast were set in front of him and he looked up in surprise to see Inez smile as she moved away through the crowd.

Buck stared at Ezra and then at Inez a moment before attacking his eggs with even more gusto. "Crazy storm we're having."

"Yes," Ezra sipped his tea, his eyes scanning the room of strangers for familiar faces.

"Keep you awake last night?" Josiah questioned casually, but when Ezra glanced at the preacher he read the concern in the man's eyes.

"It interrupted my slumber a couple of times," Ezra admitted.

"Damn near knocked me out a bed." Buck shook his head.

"Even drove Vin inside." Josiah waved his fork.

Standish picked at his toast, not hungry but feeling Josiah's scrutiny.

The bat wing doors clamored back and forth as Chris and Vin entered. Weaving through the people, Chris frowned before he found an empty chair and pulled it over to the table where Ezra and the others sat. Vin followed suit.

Rain dripped from both men as they shucked their hats off and rubbed cold hands together for warmth.

"Ain't fit out there," Vin complained snagging a biscuit from Buck's plate.

"Miserable," Ezra agreed.

"Too many people in here." Tanner glanced around the room.

"You think there's gonna be trouble?" Buck asked, taking a look around for himself.

"No sense borrowing any." Josiah leaned back as one of the girl's Inez had taken on while the settlers were in town set full plates in front of Chris and Vin. She blushed at Vin's quiet Thank you and hurried away.

"Nathan's already got him a couple of patients this morning," Chris told them. "Couple of hands fighting over something stupid. Knocked each other around good."

"That's been happening at least once a day since they all got here," Buck acknowledged, refocusing on his food yet again.

Ezra drifted as he listened to the others talk. He knew JD had probably gone on to bed after a night on patrol. Buck would be heading out after breakfast if Chris pushed it, but usually when the weather was this disagreeable, they stayed in unless trouble called them out.

His eyes danced around the room again as he took another sip of tea. He inhaled sharply as his heart suddenly raced. At the far table…that face. God. He knew that face.

"Ezra? You okay?"

He didn't hear Josiah's question. Didn't realize his hand had started shaking so badly that Sanchez had gently reached over and taken the cup out of his hand.

"Ezra?" It was Vin's voice that pulled him back. Somehow Ezra forced himself to look at the tracker.

"What is it?" Chris questioned.

"It's him." Ezra hear the fear in his own voice.

"Who?"

"Tom Wyler."

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

Chuck Miller sat at a crowded table sipping his coffee casually as he watched for his target. Around him, the din of noise rose and fell. Low murmurs of conversation, metal forks scratching against metal plates. Chairs scrapping the floors, all the while the wind and rain howled with the thunder outside. He ignored it all and focused on what he was there for…revenge.

It'd been nearly a month since he'd lost Tom. It'd taken two days for the news of Tom's death to reach him and by the time he'd reached Bainbridge, his brother had been buried, his reputation ruined, labeled as an outlaw.

Anger fueled Chuck's grief, driving him out of town before anyone there recognized him or lumped him in with his brother's crimes. Not that he hadn't been involved. They had always been a team. Tom's job protected them from suspicion while Chuck kept a low profile in nearby townships. Chuck had just borrowed his mother's maiden name so that they weren't immediately connected. It'd always worked perfectly for them, especially when he was hiding in Four Corners during this last job.

Their plan. It would have worked if not for that damned tight lipped southerner and his fellow peacekeepers. Now it was time to have some fun with the bastard before he tore him apart.

Chuck knew he looked a lot like his older brother. When they'd been little, folks had often mistaken them for twins despite the three year age difference. It was one of the reasons he'd had to clear out of Bainbridge as soon as he'd found out Tom had been buried already. Sticking around would have raised questions once people really took the time to look at him.

He saw movement at the top of the saloon's staircase and smiled behind his mug. There he was.

Chuck felt like a hunter watching his prey. He enjoyed seeing the stiffness visible as Standish slowly descended the stairs. He could see the shadows under those green eyes and for a moment he even caught a glimpse of the man's insecurity. Ezra Standish had not yet recovered from his attack, Miller could see that plain as day and he intended to use every weakness against the man.

It didn't matter to him that Vin Tanner was the man who'd actually pulled the trigger. All that mattered to Chuck was that Standish had been at the center of it all. The defiant, arrogant bastard could have just handed over the land deed and walked away but he hadn't and now Chuck intended to make the man pay dearly for his choice.

He watched Standish settle in at the table, greeting his fellow peacekeepers and accepting the measly meal offered by the pretty barmaid. The Southerner was skittish as a wild mustang about to be saddled. It surprised Chuck a bit that none of the men presumably close to the gambler seemed to notice the man's unease.

Miller looked up at the entrance of Larabee and Tanner watching carefully as both scanned the room's occupants and then headed for the same table as the others. Neither man seemed to notice him. Then again, he was an expert at blending in to his surroundings. Tom had always been the attention seeker, ready and willing to thrust himself into the public eye. Chuck continued to remain content behind the scenes and because of that, he knew now, that his plan to bring down Standish and Tanner would work perfectly.

Thunder rolled outside, shaking the building as Chuck slowly lowered his mug of coffee. He tipped his hat back from his face, allowing his features to be visible even in the saloon's pale light, and fixed his stare on Standish. He knew it wouldn't take long and was rewarded not two minutes later when Standish's wide green eyes met his.

Chuck tipped his head to the side and grinned, knowing that his smile was a mirror of his brother's. His grin broadened as the color melted out of the gambler's face and his hands visibly trembled.

Waiting only a second more, Chuck ducked his head and moved swiftly out of his seat, sliding behind a group of three men who'd just stood up to leave. He kept himself well hidden as the men at Standish's table began to react and was outside before any of them caught sight of him. It had begun.

"Ezra," Vin leaned close to Standish. "Wyler's dead."

Ezra shook his head, his gaze still fixed across the room. "He's there." He started to point, but his hand shook so badly he grasped at the table in a frantic effort to still it.

As a group, they heard his derringer rig engage.

Josiah was fast, grabbing Ezra's wrist before the southerner had an opportunity to raise his weapon. Buck gently pried the gun from Ezra's white knuckled grip. "He's not here, Hoss."

Chris was looking across the room, but the crowd of strangers showed no sign of anyone even resembling Tom Wyler.

"Ezra."

It must have been his tone because Standish suddenly inhaled sharply. His eyes danced frantically around the room before briefly meeting Chris'.

"Tom Wyler's dead," Larabee calmly repeated Vin's earlier statement.

Standish shivered once before pulling his mask of control back into place. "Of course, gentle men." He pulled away from Josiah and took his derringer from Buck, slipping it into his pocket as he rose from the table. "My apologies."

He was to the door before any of the men at the table recovered enough to follow. Vin was first to move, waving the others to stay. "Let me talk to him."

He found Ezra just outside the saloon, standing on the walkway looking lost. Rain water poured off the overhang, creating a roaring curtain of water.

"Do you think I'm addled?" Ezra's voice was low and fearful.

Vin grinned. "No more than any other day."

Ezra huffed a laugh, smiling weakly as Tanner hoped he would. "I swear he was just sitting there, grinning at me over a cup of coffee."

Vin didn't say anything for a moment. Maybe he should have let Josiah handle this and yet…he'd seen the shadows in Ezra's eyes. He knew that underneath the usual act of confidence, Standish had not moved past what had happened back in Bainbridge. "Having nightmares?"

Ezra looked away, reaching out and letting the cascade of water run over his hand.

Tanner watched the water coat pale, shaking fingers. "They'll fade," he said finally.

"Promise?"

The vulnerability of Ezra's whispered plea tore at Vin, revealing just how much Standish was hiding. Before Vin could answer they heard a shout and both men looked up to see JD splashing through the rain and running across the muddy street.

"Did y'all hear?" he asked, splashing them both as he jumped through the runoff and shook himself off.

"Hear what?" Tanner wiped the water JD had splashed from his face.

"One of the new settlers lost their place to fire last night." JD gasped out the words excited by the latest activity.

"In this?" Ezra questioned motioning to the downpour.

"Lightning hit?" Vin proposed.

JD shook his head, sending rain water spraying again. Both Tanner and Standish stepped back but couldn't avoid another shower. "They don't know yet. Only had the framing for the home up so far. They might have lost the whole lot if the rain hadn't come."

JD looked from one to the other. "Everything okay here?" he asked suspiciously.

"Well enough, Mr. Dunne."

JD seemed to take Ezra's response at his word, nodding once. "Chris inside?"

"Yup." Vin nodded.

"Gonna tell him about the fire and get something to eat. Dang, I'm cold."

Dunne was still talking as he entered the saloon, leaving Ezra and Vin alone again. Ezra shifted uncomfortably under Vin's intense gaze.

"I assure you, I am fine."

Vin held up a hand, cutting off Ezra's statement. "You decide you need someone to listen, you know where to find me." He patted Ezra's arm lightly and followed JD back into the saloon.

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you for the reviews! You make my day so bright-even when it's horribly gray and rainy here!

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It was noon before the storm moved on and the rain tapered off, leaving a wet , muddy mess behind. Chris decided they needed to check out the burned settlement and took Vin and Ezra with him.

"You sure you should take Ez?" Buck had questioned quietly before they'd ridden out.

Chris had merely glared. "Better to keep an eye on him. I need the rest of you to keep order here."

Word of the fire was spreading through town quickly and settlers were obviously agitated at the news. It was hard enough having so many extra people in town, adding worry and fear to the mix only upped the need for a strong sense of order. Chris hoped that the Seven of them could pull it off.

They rode in silence, carefully steering their mounts along the rutted muddy path. The air was cool but comfortable.

Chris caught Vin shooting the occasional concerned glance at Ezra but for his part, the Southerner appeared content and calm.

"Any theories?" Chris asked, directing his question at both of the men.

They were passing another homestead currently under construction. The family obviously living out of the two covered wagons set up under two large trees. Lumber was piled high beside a half finished frame for a small home. Two small children splashed in fresh puddles while their mother struggled to keep a weak campfire going.

The children spotted the peacekeepers and stopped their play to start at the strangers passing by. Their sudden quiet alerted their mother. She abandoned the struggling flames and took three steps closer to her children, placing herself between them and the mounted men.

Ezra tipped his hat and the lady's face lit with recognition. She smiled, her posture relaxing and raised her hand in a small wave. The children, following her cue, waved exuberantly.

Vin chuckled and waved back. "Could have been lightning," he offered the suggestion again once they were out of sight of the women and children. "Need to check it out though."

They passed two more new homesteads along the trail in various stages of development before they reached the burned out property. Pulling to a stop, they stared at the devastation.

Vin caught the anger in Larabee's expression, the memories. "You alright?" he asked.

"Yeah," Chris answered too quickly.

Ezra offered a small stiff shrug as Larabee dismounted, then carefully slid off his own horse.

"And you?" Tanner questioned Standish, recognizing the physical care the southerner was taking.

"Quite fine, Mr. Tanner."

Vin doubted the truth of either answer, but didn't push the subject.

They split up as they checked out the property.

Once a home in progress, the whole acreage had been scorched bare. The frame was nothing but a pile of sodden ash. The earth was black where the flames had raced across the grass, burning everything in their path.

"Were they living in wagons?" Chris asked.

"According to Mr. Dunne, yes," Ezra answered. He removed his hat and rubbed absently at his aching head, oblivious that he was telegraphing his discomfort to the others. "The Johnstons had enough time to escape the flames, but it was a close call- the wagon shows signs of being singed."

"Where are they now?" Chris kicked a charred clump of wood with disgust.

"Town." Ezra slipped his hat back on.

Chris turned to Vin. "Find anything?"

Shaking his head, Tanner looked around again. "Nothing obvious. Storm's made a mess of it all."

"Could have just been the storm itself." Chris sighed.

"Could have."

Unsettled without a definitive answer, Chris waved them back to the horses. "Nothing more we can do here."

The ride back to town was just as quiet as the ride out had been. Ezra knew the other two were watching him. He made a point to sit tall in the saddle despite the ache in his leg and throbbing in his shoulder. They had all witnessed a brilliant display of his weakness already this day, he didn't care to announce another.

He didn't understand what had happened at breakfast. He knew Tom Wyler was dead. He'd been there. He'd felt the man jerk away from him, heard the impact of the bullets and he'd watched the man die, but he would have sworn on his mother that Tom Wyler had sat across the room from him this morning. Was he being haunted? Was he seeing things? God, was he losing his mind?

Ezra glanced at Chris and Vin. How long would they others standby him if they knew he was going insane?

He shook the frightening thoughts away before he started imagining nightmare scenarios of asylums. He couldn't let that happen. Not ever. He'd get through this, he promised himself. He could hold it together long enough for the fear to pass. He would get through it.

Town was bustling by the time the trio returned. The afternoon sun had come out and was already quickly drying out the town. Ezra took his time in the livery, enjoying the task of caring for his horse. He brushed Chaucer thoroughly, using his good arm.

"You'll stick by me, won't you?" he whispered as Chaucer nudged him gently, searching for a treat. "You don't mind that I'm going insane do you?"

Chaucer raised his head and butted Ezra's chest as if to say 'don't be stupid'.

Ezra grinned and rewarded the horse with a sugar cube. "I think you're impossible." He patted Chaucer affectionately.

He turned to go and found Nathan standing at the end of the stall, arms crossed in front of him. "I think you're damn impossible." The healer's voice rose.

Chaucer pranced at the disturbance, but stilled with a reassuring pat from Ezra. Before Standish could worry about how much Nathan had just overheard, Jackson was already ranting.

"I can't believe you went riding so far out. You know you should be taking it easy still."

Ezra raised both hands in a sign of surrender. "I can assure you, it was an easy ride. Mr. Larabee kept a casual pace in deference to my limitations." He didn't really know if that was true, but he had recognized that Larabee had set a much slower pace than he normally rode.

Nathan's eyes narrowed as he tried to ascertain whether or not Ezra was being truthful.

"You're not hurting?" he finally questioned more calmly.

Ezra hesitated just enough for Nathan to roll his eyes. "Come on then."

"Where?" Ezra followed despite the suspicion in his voice.

"To my clinic. I got some liniment that might help the ache in both your shoulder and your leg." He waved an arm in Ezra's direction. "And don't even try to deny they're bothering ya."

Twenty minutes and one familiar lecture later, Ezra was carefully making his way down the steps outside Jackson's clinic, a small tin of liniment in his possession. He knew Jackson meant well. The healer was still dealing with the guilt of not coming to Ezra's aid immediately. Of course,Nathan hadn't known it was Ezra who'd been injured but no matter how many times he was reminded, Jackson still seemed to take on Ezra's injuries as if he himself were responsible.

It was an effort to appear casual on the stairs instead of cautious. Between the long ride and the climb up to the clinic, Ezra's leg was dragging, but he did the best he could. His stomach growled noisily as he finally reached the last step and settled on solid ground, reminding him that it'd been hours since his meager breakfast. Though he didn't feel a real desire, he knew he needed to eat.

He started across the road, glancing up toward the saloon and a group of strangers on the walkway. One paused and glanced his way.

Ezra froze in pace, his breath stolen by fear as he stared again at Tom Wyler. He tried to remind himself it wasn't possible, but it was too late.

Hands were on him, pushing, hitting. Feet kicked and stomped at him. The images came instantly. Ezra's knees hit the ground hard as he went down under the onslaught of remembered blows. His eyes, though fixed on where he'd seen Wyler, were now unseeing of anything other than the chaotic assault of memories.

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Chris sighed wearily as he exited the sheriff's office, leaving Josiah inside to guard the new prisoners.

Two of the new settlers, single men who had yet to officially settle on their land, had gotten into a knock-down drag-outfight over one of Inez's girls. Larabee wiped a hand over his face. He'd be more than thankful to get these folks out to their land and staying there, out of town for the most part. Four Corners wasn't big enough for the increased population. Oh, he realized that Mary Travis and a few others were excited over the potential growth the new settlers represented, but all he could see were the problems that came with them.

Turning away from the office, Chris spotted Ezra stepping off the stairs, coming from Nathan's clinic. He'd heard Jackson was upset that he'd taken Ezra out to the Johnston homestead, he'd gotten an earful from the healer while Ezra had still been in the livery, but Standish appeared no worse for wear from the ride.

He watched, frowning as Standish stopped suddenly in the middle of the street. Chris followed Ezra's line of sight, but didn't see anything except a group of men walking along toward the saloon.

He turned back in time to see Ezra collapse onto the muddy road, almost as if someone had knocked the southerner's legs out from under him. Concerned, Chris hurried to Ezra's side.

"Ezra," he called as he approached. "You okay?" Had the gambler's leg injury flared up again? Was he sick? "Ezra?"

Chris reached out, lightly touching Standish's shoulder only to be shocked by Ezra's reaction.

The Gambler scrambled, flinching away even as he lashed out, catching Chris who'd bent over to touch him, with a solid blow to the solar plexus. "Gah, Ezra!" Chris raised his voice and tried to grab Standish, but Ezra struck out again, just missing him.

"Damn."

Ezra heard the one voice, distinct above the blend of the others taunting him but he couldn't focus on it. Someone touched him, his bad shoulder, he couldn't. He would not allow himself to be strung up again. They'd have to kill him this time. He struck out, connecting once with one of them. He heard his name again and something nudged at the back of his mind. He swung again, blindly fighting a foe that was only in his mind. Part of him knew this, but he couldn't stop.

Chris could see that others were noticing Ezra's behavior now. They didn't need a scene. Ezra would be mortified, but he could also see quite clearly the blank, terrified stare in Standish's eyes.

Larabee had heard about such things. Had seen it happen more than once to soldiers after the war. One man had been trapped in a battle long ended, continuing only in his memory.

Ezra wasn't there beside him in Four Corners. He was back on the trail outside of Bainbridge nearly a month ago—when he'd been ambushed and attacked.

Chris saw Vin headed their way with Buck. Wilmington was already misdirecting curious onlookers.

"Ezra!" Chris growled the name, unsure now if he needed to be harsh or gentle as his friend skittered further away from him. "Standish!" He tried one more time, sinking down to his knees, close to Ezra but not touching him.

Ezra seemed to still a moment, his eyes fixed on Chris.

It was like watching the curtain rise on a stage show, as the vacant look in Ezra's eyes was replaced gradually by one of confusion, fear and then pain.

"Chris?" his voice was horse and shaky.

"You back with me now?" Larabee held up his hands to warn Vin back.

Ezra saw the motion and spun around, calming only when he recognized Tanner and Wilmington.

Chris waited for an answer, careful to remain motionless unless Ezra was actually looking at him.

Ezra nodded slowly.

"You have a bad memory?"

Chris' question made Ezra jerk as if he'd been struck, but the Southerner nodded again.

"You alright now?"

As quick as a finger snap, Ezra's whole posture relaxed. He staggered slightly as he rose to his feet. "Nothing a bath and a clean set of clothing can't fix." He flashed a smile that failed to be convincing, and raised two fingers in his customary salute before limping stiffly the rest of the way across the street and into the saloon.

Vin reached out and pulled Chris to his feet. They watched Ezra go with shocked expressions before Buck finally turned to Chris.

"What the hell just happened here?"

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

Ezra bathed quickly and efficiently, thankful to find the bath house empty of any other patrons. He didn't think he could feel any more vulnerable than he already did and the idea of bathing in front of anyone right now made him cringe. It wasn't an option.

He tried to convince himself that there was no way he could have actually seen Tom Wyler again. What the hell was going on?

The nightmares, as disturbing and painful as they were could at least be understood. The memories were still too fresh in his mind…but the flashbacks hitting him squarely during the day…those he didn't comprehend, nor the 'sightings' of Wyler.

He was falling apart.

Ezra dressed carefully, thankful for a clean change of clothes. He dressed plainly, donning his simple brown jacket. He didn't want to stand out right now. The last thing he needed was to draw more attention to himself.

His leg throbbed painfully with every move. As stiff and sore as it'd been following this afternoon's ride, his fall and scramble in the mud afterwards had wrenched the healing muscle. He briefly considered getting out the cane that Jackson had insisted he use for the first three weeks after his injury, but that would just be yet another sign of weakness.

He didn't know what to expect from Chris and the others now and it worried him. Larabee had seemed to actually understand what had been happening earlier in the street, but how long would he allow Ezra to continue on with his duties in town?

Gathering his dirty clothing, Ezra folded them carefully to avoid getting mud all over himself again. His mind raced with questions.

Just what was he going to do if Chris told him he could no longer be one of the seven peacekeepers? Was it finally time to pull up stakes and move on?

The idea of riding out on the trail by himself almost sent Ezra into renewed panic. He'd been alone when he'd been ambushed. He couldn't face riding alone again right now.

He didn't know what he was going to do. The weight of his hopelessness and confusion intensified as he put on his hat and headed out of the bathhouse.

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Chuck Miller was pleased with himself as he rode out of Four Corners. He'd see what his brief glance at Standish had done. The results of his plan were turning out so much better than he'd expected. Standish was obviously on the edge of a full breakdown. Chuck smiled and reconsidered a moment- did he want to actually kill Standish or drive him so far into insanity the man would be institutionalized by his friends and family? As satisfying as it would be to see the fancy man wallowing in the filth of an asylum- no, the man needed to die.

Chuck kept his horse on the road until he was nearing his destination, then carefully, he slipped into the woods. He was thankful the sun had come out and dried up the land so thoroughly after the storm. If the weather stayed dry enough, he knew, his fires would do the job that he and Tom had started. They'd chase the new settlers off the land for good.

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Chris, Vin and Buck sat at a table in the corner of the saloon sipping bad whiskey in silence. They'd watch Ezra head to the bathhouse, limping severely but refusing to make eye contact with any of them.

"What are we going to do?" Buck broke the silence first. When no one answered, he went on. "I've never seen Ezra look like that before. What's going on with him?"

Chris twisted his glass between his fingers. "It's the attack."

"What about it?"

"He's reliving it," Vin answered.

"What, like he's remembering it?" Buck shoved his drink away from him a bit as if he was finished with it. "Don't expect him to forget anytime soon."

"It's more than that," Chris sipped his drink before continuing. "Seen it in soldiers after the war."

Vin nodded. "Not just remembering…reliving," he emphasized the last word.

"Like he's back there during the attack again?" Buck got it. "Feeling the same fear, pain and everything just keeps happening all over again?"

"Yup." Chris glanced toward the bar seeing Josiah as the preacher got a drink and headed toward them.

"Well…shit." Buck sat back in his chair, obviously trying to wrap his mind around the whole idea. "What do we do?"

Vin and Chris shrugged together as Josiah pulled out a chair and sat down.

"Why the deep contemplation?" he asked before taking a long drink. He wiped the back of his hand over his mustache. "Why so glum?"

"Ezra," Chris answered simply.

"Is our brother in need of some counsel?" Sanchez grinned but the smile gradually faded as he listened to Chris recount what had happened in the street.

"Can you fix him?" Buck blurted when Chris finished.

Josiah shook his head, his eyes sad and worried. "I'm not sure it's a matter of 'fixing' our brother so much as it's about making him feel safe enough to move past what happened."

"How exactly do we do that?" Chris demanded.

Josiah smiled again, a little sadly. "We watch his back, look out for him and be there for him when he needs to talk."

Buck grabbed his drink again, almost spilling it. "But Ezra don't like to open up or talk much about what happened. He clams up if'n you ask."

"Then we just need to be ready and remember no matter how hard he tries to push us away- we don't let him."

"Why would he push us away?" Vin asked.

"He's feeling real vulnerable right now. What would you do?"

Josiah's question left them sitting in silence again.

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Wanting to avoid any further attention, Ezra slowly made his way around to the back of the saloon. It was a task to climb the stairs yet again but by going up the back way he could take his time and lean heavily against the wall for support.

He was breathless and frustrated by the time he reached his room.

Dinner hour was approaching. but he wasn't about to face the others yet. He knew they were talking about him by now.

'What do we do about Ezra?'

Exasperated, Ezra grabbed the bottle of whiskey Nathan had left on his dresser for 'medicinal' purposes. Due to Nathan's caution, the bottle was still three quarters of the way full.

Staring at the amber liquid, Ezra decided it would do nicely for his evening meal. He sat in his rocking chair, moving only to raise the bottle and drink deeply. He knew he should be rubbing liniment into his aches and going to bed. He should be drinking some of the soothing tea that Jackson had left for him, but none of it mattered anymore.

He was so tired of being exhausted. Tired of being afraid. Ezra took another long swig, enjoying the burning warmth of the drink. He grasped onto the feeling, pushing the fear into the corners of his mind and letting the alcohol fuel the fire of anger that was just beginning to ignite within him.

Ezra held onto the anger and let it grow.

Why had he been on the trail to Bainbridge by himself anyway? Why were none of the other six there to back him up? Hadn't Judge Travis recognized that he would have been in danger once he had the deeds in his possession? If not, why not? The man was supposed to be wise after all, wasn't he?

Why had Chris insisted that Ezra be the one to go anyway? Why? Because Nathan had taken it upon himself to lash out at Ezra at every turn that week. So Ezra was sent away as if he was the problem, unprotected, into a dangerous situation. Then, after he was attacked, no one bothered to come for him. He'd been left there for three whole days, dying.

The emotions churned within, crushing logic and fact, twisting and morphing both into blame and bitterness. The bitterness warmed him, quashing the fear and giving him something to cling to.

No one had even bothered to thank him for saving the stupid land deeds, he thought, tipping the bottle back again. He should have let his attackers have the damn things the first time they'd asked. Oh, and they'd asked quite politely first. It wasn't until he'd denied knowing what they were talking about that Tom Wyler had simply said, "Have it your way," and shot him in the leg.

He should have just ridden away and washed his hands of the whole matter and the whole town of Four Corners once and for all.

That's what he'd do, he decided, the alcohol dimming his memory to his earlier fear of being alone again. He'd get well enough and then he'd get the hell out of this town.

TBC...


	5. Chapter 5

Chris was in the jailhouse ready to head out on the night's patrol when he heard the rider coming into town fast. He met the frantic man in the street, barely getting out of the way as the exhausted horse was pulled to a sudden stop. The animal was panting heavily, dangerously even,as its owner was already trying to steer it around Chris and into motion again.

"There's a fire! Fire!" the rider screamed. He was just a kid. Maybe thirteen at the most, Chris realized. He reached up and grabbed the reins and patted the sweating animal soothingly.

"Easy," he ordered both man and beast.

"Our land!" The boy jumped from the horse, frantically searching the dark buildings and deserted street. "it's burning!" There were tears in his eyes.

Chris could hear footsteps and knew without looking it was Vin. He put a hand on the youngster's shoulder. "Where?"

The boy quivered under his hand, trembling with fear, exertion and worry. "Out by the Johnston's." He swallowed back a sob.

"What's going on?" Tanner arrived, his mare's leg in hand.

"Fire at the…" Larabee looked at the boy for an answer.

"Myles," the boy answered, sniffing loudly and wiping the back of his arm across his face. "My dad is Jonathan Myles."

"I'll get the others." Tanner ran for the boarding house.

"You think you can calm down enough to lead us back to your place?" Chris asked the blond-headed boy. The kid's hair stuck up wildly, his eyes still red from lack of sleep and tears.

He gulped. "Yes, sir."

"What's your name?"

"Jon."

"Ok, Jon, Head to the livery and get a fresh horse. Tell them Chris sent you."

"Yes sir." Calmer now, but still humming with suppressed energy, Jon obeyed.

Buck turned up first, followed by everyone else but Ezra. It didn't take long for everyone to mount up.

"Where's Ezra?" JD was the first to point out the Southerner's absence.

"Didn't wake him," Vin explained. "Know he was hurting from the ride out earlier and didn't think he'd be up for another one. Not like this."

"Probably right," Nathan agreed, securing his medical pack in his saddle bags. "Anyone hurt at your place?" He turned his attention to Jon Myles.

"Not when I left." Jon chewed at his lip, twisting at the reins of his borrowed horse.

"Let's go," Chris directed.

They rode out of town fast but safe, Chris keeping a pace that wouldn't harm them or the horses. He knew the urgency, yet also knew there was probably nothing they could do, even as a group, to save the family's property,but maybe they'd be able to help in some way.

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Ezra watched the commotion from his rocking chair. He saw the rider arrive and Tanner run for the others. He watched, waiting for someone to pound on his door and tell him to get moving. The notice never came. They didn't need him.

'You wouldn't do much good right now anyway,' he reminded himself.

Nathan had probably told them to let him sleep. Whatever the problem was- he couldn't handle a ride that harsh or fast, not yet. Not after the ride earlier today.

Frustrated and trying to be logical, his drink-clouded mind chose to focus only on the simple fact—they'd left him behind, alone- again.

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The sun was up by the time the beleaguered group rode slowly back into town. Exhausted, filthy and weighed down by the futility of their efforts, no one spoke.

The Myles' property was a loss. The lumber they'd painstakingly stocked for a home, had burned like a giant bonfire. The peacekeepers had arrived in time to help Jonathan Myles and his wife move two of their three wagons out of reach of the flames and keep their other six children out of harm's way but the family had lost most of their possessions and one of their horses to the fire.

Chris and Vin had listened to Mr. Myles' description of the sudden fire, Tanner shaking his head. "Nothing natural about the way that woodpile is burning," he muttered to Chris.

The fire, for all appearances, had been set.

Now, riding into the waking town, concern chewed at Larabee's mind. Did they have a fire starter loose in Four Corners? How were they going to figure out who it was? How were they going to stop him?

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Ezra sat at a corner table in the saloon instead of his usual one, the one Chris usually picked when he wanted to wallow in drink and anger. Ezra figured it was his turn. A bottle of whiskey sat on the table, already half empty. He ignored the toast and tea Inez had brought out to him despite his curt refusal.

He watched as Chris, Vin and Buck came into the building together. Their shoulders sagged with weariness. They looked done in from the night and Ezra had to push aside his concern. He didn't care, he reminded himself.

The place was crowded again, but this morning the tone of the patrons was different. Instead of the normal easy gossip and everyday frustrations being passed around, this morning—the murmuring had taken on a tense frantic edge. News of the two fires had spread almost as quickly as the flames themselves. Ezra watched it all from his corner, wondering when the worry would erupt into shouting and full out fear.

"Morning, Ezra."

Ezra looked up, startled from his thoughts by JD's sudden appearance at his table. The boy looked like he needed a good bath. Soot and dirt lined his face and clothes, but none of it seemed to bother Dunne.

"Hmm." Ezra grabbed his whiskey and took a long sip straight from the bottle.

JD's eyes widened. He frowned. "Is that your breakfast?"

"It'll do," Ezra admitted, scowling as Dunne pulled out a chair and sat down. He didn't want JD's company or anyone else's. How come folks left Larabee alone when he sulked in a corner but not him?

JD watched him in uncharacteristic silence. Ezra tried not to notice the dark circles under Dunne's expressive eyes or the worry lines wrinkling his young skin. On second thought, the boy looked like he needed to go to bed.

The silence wore at him, it was too unlike JD to simply sit there and stare.

Ezra set the bottle back on the table. "What do you want, Mr. Dunne?" He kept his voice harsh and impatient. He wanted to be alone.

"I'm worried about you."

It was all Standish could do to control his reaction to JD's honest statement. It was definitely not what he expected.

"There is no need for you to waste your concern on me," he replied, his tone a little gentler.

"Yeah, well." JD didn't look away. "It's not like you to drink your breakfast."

"I don't believe that's any of your business."

"Maybe not." JD shrugged. "But too bad."

Ezra gaped at the young man.

JD smiled slightly. "I'm tired, Ez. I spent the night watching a family's new home burn up. I don't want to watch you destroy yourself, too."

Standish blinked. Why did JD have to push him? "Then maybe you need to find someplace else to sit for your morning meal." He pushed back.

Dunne needed to go away. If he had to be cruel to make that happen- he would do it.

"Nah, I'm good here."

JD waved at Buck, signaling the ladies' man over.

"Mr. Dunne, did it ever occur to you that I chose this particular seat because I wanted to be alone?" Ezra felt like the wall he'd carefully constructed with his anger the night before was about to cave in on him.

"yup." JD ignored the obvious prod to leave.

Within minutes Ezra's 'private' table was crowded. Chris and Vin had joined Buck after JD'd signaled him over and Josiah and Nathan had come in shortly after. Instead of finding another, larger table in the crowded room, they'd chosen to pull up chairs and squeeze around the smaller one where Ezra sat.

Knowing it would do no good to protest to the group and too stubborn to leave, Ezra continued drinking his whiskey and tried his best to remain ambivalent toward the group. He listened as they discussed the fire in hushed voices, conscious of the tension in the room around them.

"Did you see the way the flames traveled up the wood pile?" Buck asked.

"Following the trail," Vin answered.

"Trail?" Nathan stabbed his eggs, casting a glance at Ezra's ignored plate of toast as the Southerner took another sip of his breakfast. "What would cause the fire to do that?"

"Alcohol," Josiah answered.

"Oil," Chris added.

"So it was definitely set by someone." JD sighed over his empty plate. "But why?"

"We know that someone didn't want those land deed to ever get into the settlers hands to begin with," Josiah pointed out, eyeing Ezra carefully.

Ezra ignored the urge to react to the reference to his attack.

"But if Guy Royal was behind that…why would he burn the settlers out now?" Buck shook his head. "He's destroying the land that he wanted to get his hands on so badly."

"Land can recover, "Vin reminded.

"Yeah but when?" JD asked.

"It'd take time, but with work, it'd come around again. Sometimes better."

"What do you think, Ezra?" Chris surprised them all by addressing Standish directly regardless of his lack of interaction with them.

Ezra stared at Larabee a moment, his mind racing with panic even as he carefully schooled his expression to reveal nothing.

Purposefully, he reached forward and picked up the bottle of whiskey. Slowly, he rose to his feet, wobbling slightly at the wave of dizziness that swept over him. Clearing his throat he looked at Larabee.

"I have no theories on the matter," he stated sharply, then turned and weaved his way through the crowd and out the bat wing doors.

Buck sat back in his chair. "That went well."

TBC...


	6. Chapter 6

Again- thank you all so much for the encouraging reviews.

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Ezra knew he was being unreasonable. He couldn't help it. He couldn't help them. Not when he was so messed up inside. He slowly slid onto one of the benches along the walkway, leaning back against the building and set the bottle of whiskey on the bench next to him. He closed his eyes. His head throbbed and the ache in his leg pulsed along with it. The anger and unfeeling shield that had come with the initial intake of alcohol was fading. It was leaving him lost again in a maelstrom of emotion and fear.

Who was starting the fires? Was it the same mysterious person waiting out there to get to him? Or was it all his imagination? Was his fear paralyzing him?

He heard the heavy footsteps and tensed as someone sat down beside him.

"Nice morning," Josiah commented.

Ezra sighed and opened his eyes. "I suppose."

Josiah grinned. "You don't sound as angry as you were trying so hard to be a few moments ago," he pointed out, suddenly serious.

Ezra stiffened and started rise but Josiah simply reached out and grabbed his forearm. "Hear me out."

"Do I have a choice?" Ezra demanded harshly, glaring down at the hand on his arm.

"Of course." Josiah's hand loosened but he didn't let go. "Please."

Ezra deflated again. "Fine," he motioned with his free hand. "What wisdom do you have to share with me today?" he asked sarcastically.

Ignoring the snide tone, Josiah leaned back beside the Southerner, making himself comfortable.

"There was a time," he started, looking out at the street, his voice was low but strong. "My father took us onto a Cherokee reservation. I was pretty young then and my sister was just a toddler. The chief's wife took care of her and I tended to follow that woman around everywhere. All the children did. She'd set us down and tell us stories and share her wisdom."

The sound of Josiah's voice assured Ezra that his friend was smiling at the memory. Though he didn't want to hear whatever story Josiah was intent on sharing,the tone of the preacher's voice lulled him, relaxing him despite his agitation. No matter how much he tried to focus on his anger…he trusted Josiah.

"My favorite one, it was the parable of 'Two Wolves'. See an old Cherokee chief was teaching his grandson about life…

'_A fight is going on inside me,' he said to the boy. 'It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil – he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, self doubt and ego.'" _Josiah paused before continuing, letting his words settle between them.

"' _The other is good- he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith. _

_This same fight is going on inside you and inside of every other person,__ too,' the grandfather told the boy. _

_The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, 'which wolf will win?'_

_The old Chief simply replied, 'The one you feed.'"_

Josiah looked at Ezra then. "I know you're torn up inside. The memories of what happened to you feel like they're tearing you apart and taking over but Ezra…" the grip on Ezra's arm tightened. "You are not alone in this. No matter how much it feels that way. Please. Please remember that. Hang on to that. Don't feed the anger and the fear…fight it, Brother. Fight it."

Ezra stared after Sanchez, watching as Josiah rose and re-entered the saloon, the man's words echoing through his mind. Was it really that easy? Could he simply just- fight- the feelings and terror? How? It was so much easier to embrace the anger. To hold onto it, cling to it, and feel strengthened by it…but was it real? Did it help him?

Noise from inside the saloon drew his attention. Someone was yelling. Pushing back to his feet, Ezra moved as quickly as he was able to see what was going on inside.

"What are you going to to do about it?"

A man he didn't recognize was standing toe to toe with Chris, his face flushed with rage. "Someone's burning us out! They're threatening our families. You," he said, jabbing at Larabee's chest , "and your men are supposed to be protecting us!" He moved to jab Chris again,but Chris moved faster, grabbing the man's wrist and turning it just enough. The man howled and the place erupted.

"Don't you hurt him!" Someone yelled.

A bottle flew at Chris, clipping him before he had the time to duck out of the way. Buck and Vin sprang into action and from his viewpoint, Ezra watched.

JD and Josiah stood, ready to intervene. Inez ducked behind the bar.

Ezra tried to stay tight to the wall as the brawl exploded full force. Josiah caught one settler by the collar and flung him away from Nathan.

A bottle exploded against the wall beside Ezra, glass flying. He ducked, but shards caught him, cutting a slice into his cheek. A chair crashed somewhere nearby, he heard the wood splintering followed by Nathan's frantic, "Ezra, look out!"

Ezra turned, but not in time. The weapon hit him like club across his bad shoulder. His vision blurred as pain erupted, so sharp it drove him back and into the wall. He heard someone scream, "NO!" just before his shoulder was hit a second time. His world went black and silent.

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Chuck laughed as he rolled out of the saloon, ducking under the bat wing doors and hurrying down the street with a handful of other men. The crude club he'd made from the smashed chair still in his hand. He tossed it aside in case any of the other peacekeepers decided to come after him, but he was pretty sure they were distracted enough trying to calm the fight and take care of the injured.

It hadn't taken long to get old Joe Cirus stirred up. Between dropping a few muttered comments about how the peacekeepers weren't doing a very good job of watching over the new homesteads and the tension already filling the place, Joe was easy to set off.

Miller hadn't expected Cirus to go right for Larabee. The man certainly had some guts, but the result, for Chuck, was perfect. It'd let him get to Standish.

Oh how much he'd wanted to actually get up in the Southerner's face and let himself be recognized, but he knew…the time wasn't right for that. Not yet. Striking out physically would have to be enough for now.

He'd seen how the other six seemed to be circling their wagons protectively around Standish. He hadn't expected that. As much as he tried to make the gambler lose his mind…the other peacekeepers seemed to be standing by their friend regardless. It was time to up the ante a bit. He'd laid the groundwork earlier, once he'd seen Standish outside the saloon and now everything should work just right. He just needed to wait.

How much longer would the other men stand by Standish? How far gone did his mind have to be before they would desert him, too?

He didn't imagine Standish holding up too well at all now. Not between his injury and the surprise that awaited him. And, Chuck slowed to a walk, ducking down an alley and skirting behind the livery to where he'd left his horse, if none of that worked to break Standish, that'd be alright, too. It just meant it would be time to move on to the next phase of his plan. The final phase.

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Hands. Hands were on him. Pain.

Ezra came awake struggling, panicked by the memory of too many hands bringing only pain.

"Easy, Ezra, it's okay." He heard Jackson's voice but it didn't register at first.

"Ezra, stop moving, brother." Josiah.

Slowly awareness returned. He stilled, but flinched as strong fingers worked his shoulder.

"It's not out," Jackson said. "And not broken either, I don't think." Relief was audible in the healer's voice. "Ezra, can you move it?"

Forcing himself to open his eyes and try, Ezra tentatively tried to move his arm. The pain was excruciating, but he was able to move. He groaned in spite of himself.

"Careful," Nathan warned again. "It's bruised good."

"That's an understatement," Buck 's comment drew Ezra's attention and that's when he realized he was surrounded by everyone. The saloon was empty except for them. Inez watched, worriedly from the bar.

He was shirtless.

"What?"

"How in the world can you barely be in the same room as the fight and end up the most significantly injured is beyond me," Nathan fussed as he gently adjusted the angle of Ezra's arm. "Where's the sling I made for you?"

"I," Ezra looked around again. "Where's my coat…my shirt?"

Vin grinned. "Here." He held up the garments in question.

"That guy went right at him," JD told them. Ezra realized then that JD was standing beside Larabee, who was seated in a chair with a rag held to his own head. His eyes met Chris'.

"I'm fine," Chris assured.

Nathan nodded, responding to both Chris and JD. "Chris just got clipped. Has a goose egg, but JD's right, seemed like that guy targeted your bad shoulder."

Ezra flinched again as Jackson dabbed at the cut on his cheek.

"I don't understand," he managed.

"I don't either," Chris growled, obviously frustrated.

"Your sling?" Nathan prodded again.

Ezra looked from Chris to Nathan. "My room."

"I'll go." Buck started toward the stairs, but Standish spoke quickly, stopping him.

"I'd like to…"he waved his good arm indicating he'd like to get up off the filthy floor and go to his room himself. "It'll be easier for me to find," he explained at Nathan's questioning look.

"Fine, you need the rest anyways. Buck," Nathan called Wilmington back. "Help us get him on his feet."

"I'm perfectly capable…" Ezra protested but Josiah cut him off.

"Let us help."

"I don't want you jarring your shoulder more before I can get it better stabilized, "Jackson explained. "Just in case."

Ezra saw the concern in their eyes and acquiesced despite the weakness he felt. With his good hand, he reached out. Josiah slid into place beside him. Nathan held his injured arm still while Buck stood behind him.

Once he was on his feet, he swayed slightly.

"You good?" Vin asked.

"I believe so."

Nathan insisted on helping him up the stairs, hovering beside him in case he lost his balance, but thankfully Ezra remained upright for the climb.

"What happened?" he asked the healer as they reached the top of the steps.

"You don't remember?" Jackson's voice filled with renewed concern.

"I know I got hit but…by who?"

Nathan shook his head. "No idea. I didn't see his face just that he seemed to target you. It was like he knew you'd been hurt." Nathan squeezed Ezra's arm slightly. "We were too busy settling the fight and checking on you and Chris to chase after him. When you went down, I thought for sure…"

They were almost to Ezra's door when Standish suddenly stopped walking.

"What is it?" Nathan looked at his frozen friend. Terror was etched on Ezra's face, he began to tremble uncontrollably.

"Ezra?"

Standish didn't respond, he simply stared at the door to his room.

Nathan followed the frightened gaze and gasped in shock. There, hanging on the doorknob to Ezra's room hung a worn leather belt. Nathan immediately recognized it as looking exactly, if not being the same one that had been used to torture Ezra in Bainbridge. It was the weapon used to strangle his friend so badly it'd left a scar on the back of Ezra's neck where the buckle had cut into the skin.

"Chris!" Nathan shouted for Larabee and the others even as he felt Ezra's leg give out beside him. He caught his friend and held on.

"It's okay, Ezra. It's going to be okay," he repeated over and over even as he promised himself that this was not going to happen to Standish again. Whoever was targeting his friend was going to pay, even if Nathan had to find them and kill them himself.

TBC...


	7. Chapter 7

_Yesterday my oldest turned 13! The connection with M7? One month and one day after he was born M7 premiered and I got into fandom and writing fanfic... Thanks again for the reviews, they encourage me so much and remind me not to give up on any story ideas still floating around in my head._

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Chris paced the hallway outside of Ezra's room, gripping the leather belt in his hand. His anger boiling now, as the ramifications of the belt's appearance were realized.

This was about more than Ezra reliving the attack. Someone was orchestrating this, torturing Standish mentally, pushing him closer and closer to the edge of his sanity.

Larabee wanted to destroy something, someone.

"Cowboy." Vin's voice was low and soothing, the tone he might use if he was trying to approach a wild horse.

"What?" Chris snapped at the tracker, in no mood to be soothed.

"He's going to be alright."

"We don't know that." Chris waved the belt in Vin's direction. "This…" his anger peaked as he looked at the detested piece of leather. He flung it forcefully away from him, watching as it slammed against the wall and landed on the floor.

"I know," Tanner went to the belt and scooped it up again, winding it into a tight coil. His fingers lingered on the cold metal of the buckle.

"What do you want with it?" Chris demanded, not understanding why Vin didn't just leave it.

"Wanna make sure it's not used against him again," Tanner answered practically.

Chris sighed. He hadn't thought of that. Of course he didn't point out that someone could use any belt as a symbol of what happened. He hoped to God that it wouldn't happen again. At least he knew that the six other peacekeepers were going to do everything possible to prevent anyone from getting to Ezra again.

At Nathan's initial yell everyone had run upstairs, but once they were certain there was no immediate danger, Chris had sent Buck and JD back downstairs to keep an eye on things. Folks had started to filter back into the saloon now that the brawl had ended and Larabee didn't need anyone wandering upstairs and nosing into Ezra's business.

Josiah was outside, subtly watching over what was happening around town and looking out for any obvious signs of foul play. Nathan had ushered Ezra into the privacy of his room.

Standish had tried to insist that he was fine, but even once the initial fright had passed, the southerner continued to shake uncontrollably. Nathan had feared that between the assault downstairs and finding the belt, Ezra might go into shock.

Chris ran his fingers through his hair. "Who's doing this?"

"Someone one who looks a hell of a lot like Tom Wyler," Vin answered looking at Chris knowingly.

"Family."

It clicked together confirming Chris' fears that the 'sightings' Ezra had been having were more than just memories of his trauma.

They were silent a moment, obviously mulling over the realization.

"Think it's linked to the fires?" Vin questioned.

It made sense, Chris thought. Tom Wyler had tried to get the land deeds from Ezra. He was the man behind the attack on Standish. They knew that he'd sent telegrams to someone in Four Corners, but they'd never been able to find that someone. If Wyler's partner had been family,then when Vin killed Tom…Wyler's family might be looking for revenge.

"Why not me?" Vin asked suddenly as if he'd followed Larabee's inner thoughts.

"What?" Chris looked at him.

"I'm the one who shot Wyler. I killed him." He glanced at Ezra's door. "Why are they targeting him and not me?"

Chris heard the guilt in Vin's voice. "There's no reason to it," he admitted. "Why would this person target the new settlers now that they've got their land? None of them are gonna just abandon their dreams. Might take awhile to recoup and rebuild but they're determined to stay. It's senseless."

Vin leaned against the wall. "It's revenge," he shook his head. "Pure revenge."

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Ezra's body betrayed his every effort to control it. His hands trembled, his knees shook. Every time he tried to stand he wavered so badly that Jackson pushed him back down onto his bed.

"Stay put," Nathan commanded, swinging Standish's legs up onto the bed.

"I don't want to lie down," Ezra protested,but didn't fight the action. He watched, feeling helpless as Nathan propped a rolled blanket under his legs.

"You need to." The healer worked quickly to settle the gambler.

"I'm fine."

"You're not." Nathan pointed threateningly. "You took a bad hit to your shoulder. You hit your head on the way down and now you've had a damn good shock."

"I'm going insane," Ezra finished for him.

Nathan pulled up short, surprised and angered by the fear he could clearly see in Ezra.

"Not likely." Vin spoke from the doorway, startling both men with his silent entry.

Beside him, Chris held a tray with a kettle of steaming hot water and mug on it. Nathan caught a glimpse of Inez in the hallway before Chris closed the door and handed the tray to him.

Ezra shook his head. "I'm reliving the attack. I'm seeing things that aren't there. I'm confused. I'm losing my mind." His voice grew more frantic as he went on, his panic palpable.

"No." Chris stepped forward. "That's not what's happening."

"Ezra," Vin continued interrupted. "Someone is doing this to you."

"What?" Ezra froze.

"Reliving the memories may be real, but there's someone out there triggering them, trying to make you think you're going crazy."

"I don't understand." Ezra closed his eyes, suddenly so very weary.

"The sightings of Tom Wyler," Chris said. "Tell me about them."

"A figment of my imagination," Standish murmured.

"Tell me about him, "Chris repeated.

Swallowing, Ezra opened his eyes again. Nathan moved beside him, readying the sling for his arm.

"I've seen him twice."

"Twice?" Vin asked.

Ezra nodded, sitting up again awkwardly so that he could put the sling on.

"In the saloon," he started.

"And in the street, "Chris finished. "When you thought you were in the middle of the attack again."

Ezra winced as Nathan adjusted the sling and helped settle back against pillows that now propped him up.

"I thought I was imagining it all." Ezra's voice was a shamed whisper.

"I think we're dealing with Wyler's partner." Chris walked over to Ezra's rocking chair, turned it away from the window so it was facing the bed and sat down. "We think he's family."

"Family," Ezra repeated the word as if he'd never heard it before. "I didn't imagine him? I'm not seeing things?"

"Don't think so. Not everything at least." Vin held up the belt. "This is real."

Ezra's eyes locked on the belt and he seemed to sink further into the pillows.

"Someone hung it on your door, knowing what kind of response you'd have," Nathan added.

Standish's face colored with shame, he was embarrassed by his fear in front of these men.

"Only way someone would know that…is if they were there when you were attacked." Chris leaned forward. "You need to tell us about your attack," he said gently.

"No." He nearly startled himself with his strong response. He refused to meet Chris' gaze. "I've told you what I remember," he managed to regain control of his tone.

"Try to remember," Vin prodded. " How many men were there?"

Ezra looked away from them as visions of hands pulling at him ran through his mind. He'd never counted before, he just remembered there'd been too many to fight against. "Five," he whispered finally. "I think there were five of them.

"Do you remember any of them with Wyler? Anyone who looked like him?"

Ezra cringed as more memories started. He wanted to push them away, bury them. He didn't want to share with the others how weak and useless he'd been. He felt the hands, harsh and brutal pull him off of Chaucer. He managed to signal the horse to go and had felt a sense of relief when the men failed to grab the beast before he got away from them. Then Tom Wyler had sneered and fired the gun.

"Ezra."

Standish jolted at Chris' voice, hissing as he jerked his shoulder. "I don't remember," he insisted quietly.

"Ezra."

"I don't remember anyone but Wyler," the gambler bit out angrily.

"That's enough." Nathan stepped in, handing Ezra the mug of tea, he'd prepared. "I need to get Ezra to drink this now and then he needs to rest. Out. Now," he ordered.

Chris looked like he was going to protest, but after a moment he nodded and headed out of the room.

Vin paused at the door. "When you're ready Ezra." And then they were gone.

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"He's lying," Chris poured himself a drink of whiskey and downed it in one take. Around the table, the rest of the seven, save for Ezra, were gathered.

It was late and the saloon was once again empty, the other patrons chased out by Inez.

Ezra had not come out of his room since the conversation earlier.

"You can't force him to talk about it," Josiah insisted.

"But if whoever is doing this to him is the same one starting the fires, he needs to talk to us about it." Buck played with his mustache.

"What do we do about the fires?" JD asked. "What if there's another one tonight? How do we know who the next target will be? Shouldn't we be out there patrolling?"

Buck laid a hand on Dunne's shoulder, stilling the barrage of questions.

"There's too much territory for us to cover when we don't know the target," Vin answered. "The settlers have been warned and a few men are ready to rid into town for help if needed."

"You really think Ezra is lying about what he remembers?" JD jumped the subject back to Standish. "Why would he do that?" He looked back and forth between each man, waiting for an answer.

Josiah sat back in his chair and scratched at his beard. "He was tortured, JD."

JD scrunched his face up, shaking his head. "They beat him up bad."

"And shot him," Chris reminded.

"Near hung him," Vin added.

"Yeah but…" The youngest of their group shook his head again.

"JD." Nathan leaned forward, his hands clenched tightly together. "It was five against one. They ambushed him, dragged him off his horse, shot him and then tried to beat information out of him. They strung him up for God's sake."

"But if he remembered enough to tell you all that, why would he lie about remembering the men who did it?"

"He never told me what was done to him," Nathan admitted, surprising everyone at the table.

"Then who did?" Buck asked.

Nathan stared at the oil lamp in the center of the table, watching its flickering flame for a moment before he finally cleared his throat to answer. "Tom Wyler."

"What?" Chris looked at Nathan.

"It was when we'd first arrived in town," Nathan explained. "Before we…before I knew it was Ezra who was hurt. Wyler was taking me to him. He listed all Ezra's injuries. Thought it was because he'd been helping care for Ez. Then when I discovered it was Ezra, I was too wrapped up with trying to save him. I never asked Ezra and he never confirmed or denied."

"Even if he didn't tell you then…why wouldn't he tell us now if'n it can help him and somebody else?" JD persisted.

"How would you feel?" Vin asked directly. "If it'd been you and all those thing happened. How would you honestly feel?"

JD seemed to contemplate for a minute before he finally answered. "Weak," he admitted. "Maybe ashamed that it happened, but Ezra shouldn't feel that way. It could have happened to any of us."

"Knowing that don't always change the way a man feels inside when he's been torn down, Kid."

"So what do we do?" Dunne looked as lost as the rest of them felt.

"We wait," Sanchez answered. "We show a little bit of patience and we wait."

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Ezra stood in the dark shadows at the top of the stairs, looking down into the dimly lit saloon. He stared, unfocused at the oil lamp in the center of the table where the rest of the seven sat and listened as they talked about him.

They didn't sound like they thought he was losing his mind, no. They sounded…frustrated but supportive. He wasn't sure what to think about that. Ezra had expected Chris to demand that he tell them everything he remembered about the attack instead of willingly following Josiah's advice to wait patiently.

He shifted carefully, not wanting to draw their attention yet. His mind raced as he struggled with the decision. Was he the key to figuring out who was behind the fires? Was it possible that if he let himself remember everything and share it with someone else that he'd be able to identify the person who was setting the fires? Would sharing his deepest demons free him from the mental anguish in which the memories seemed to have trapped him?

Ezra sighed lightly and with his good hand he rubbed at his temples. His head ached. His shoulder and leg throbbed. His god damned heart ached. Everything about him right now seemed to focus on pain. He was weary of it.

Josiah's words from earlier resounded through his thoughts. _"It is a fight between two wolves. One is evil. He is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, self doubt and ego." _

Ezra knew as the preacher's gentle voice filled his mind that he needed to let go of the negative emotions boiling within him. He couldn't do that on his own. He needed his friends and it was time, he realized, as he watched them struggle with how to help him, it was time to reach out, to let go and let them support him.

Gathering his courage, Standish pushed away from the wall and turned toward the top step.

A hand clamped over his mouth from behind as the cold, threatening steel of a gun pressed painfully into his temple. "Going somewhere?"

TBC...


	8. Chapter 8

I'd say sorry for the evil cliffhanger...but I totally did that on purpose. Learned from the masters (waves to NT and Tipper). Thanks for the continued reviews. Am in a hurry this a.m.-this part is slightly shorter but hopefully I'll be able to post the conclusion later today.

* * *

Ezra started to struggle, but the hand over his mouth tightened, thick calloused fingers bruised his face with their grip. The gun moved into his peripheral vision, no longer pointed at him. He followed the line of sight and realized the weapon was now aimed at Vin.

"One sound. One wrong move and Tanner is first to die." The whisper was a mere breath in his ear. Almost inaudible over his pounding heart beat. "You understand me?"

Ezra managed to incline his head enough to signal his acquiescence.

"Good, now slow and quiet. We're going to walk out the back way."

Somehow Ezra managed to stay upright and keep his bad leg under him as he was ruthlessly hauled toward the back stairs. As soon as they were out of sight of the steps and the interior of the saloon, the gun pressed hard into his ribs as his captor wrapped an arm tight around him. Ezra hissed as his shoulder was jarred, but remained silent even when the hand left his mouth and another arm wrapped tightly around him. Whoever had him, virtually carried him down the dark steps and out the back door.

He was set down hard in the dirt alley behind the building. Ezra's leg wobbled,but he stayed standing. He started to turn toward his assailant.

"Eh, eh, not yet." The blow came without any other warning, plunging him into darkness.

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Chuck caught the southerner as he went down and carelessly tossed the smaller man over his shoulder. Standish was lighter than he remembered and he smiled at the idea his attack and torment had prevented the man from thriving.

Reaching his horse, tethered strategically near the back of the saloon, Miller tossed Ezra over the back of animal and quickly secured him with rope. A moment later, Chuck was riding out of the sleepy town, grinning over how simple it had been to grab the gambler.

It was perfect, he knew. His plan would work and Tom would be avenged. If he was lucky, he might even get to kill Tanner, but then again, it'd be better if he left the tracker alive. His smile turned feral. Tanner would get to live the rest of his life knowing he hadn't been able to save his friend. It might not be the same as losing a brother, but from what Chuck had observed of the men and their interaction with Standish… it'd be close enough.

Chuck rode over the familiar trails, skirting trees and rock-strewn barriers as if he'd known the lay of the land since birth. It didn't matter that it'd only been months. He'd basically lived in the wilds of these woods since he'd come to town and started helping Tom set up the ambush on Standish.

He rode at night, intent on learning the land in anticipation of getting his own acreage. It was going to be his payment from Guy Royal for getting hold of the deeds before the settlers. Instead, Standish had managed to deliver the deeds despite being attacked. Tanner had killed Tom, and Guy Royal had refused to pay Chuck anything for a failed job.

Miller's anger deepened at the injustice and he spurred his horse to a quicker pace, ignoring the groan from his semi-conscious passenger. He'd have revenge soon now. His biggest fire yet and this time, Standish wouldn't be walking away from it.

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Vin heard the rider coming in before the others and jumped out of his seat, knocking his chair over in the process.

They were still in the saloon. JD, Buck and Josiah dozing-loudly- while Nathan, Chris and him had talked in quiet whispers about what could be done to help Ezra and stop the fires.

Tanner heard the others following before he pushed through the doors into the cool night.

Outside, a man he recognized as Dunkin Oliver, one of the settlers who'd volunteered to help patrol the newly deeded lands and keep watch, pulled his horse to a stop.

"We got another one," Dunkin told him.

Vin could already see the dark smudges of soot on the stocky man's clothes and face. "Where?"

"Western edge, by the woods." Oliver shook his head. "This one's bad."

"What do you mean?" Chris questioned as the others joined them. JD ran for the livery.

"He started it on the edge of the Johnston's property."

"But he already burned that land," Buck looked confused.

"And there were no patrols there," Josiah clarified.

"Nope. He started it in the tall grass opposite the other fire. It's already reached the brush and the forest. It's going wild."

"Damn." Chris growled. They had no way to fight a wild fire other than to get everything of value out of its path.

"Any new homesteads out there?" Vin questioned.

Oliver nodded. "Only one. Not even cleared yet though. We're moving the Barnes and Jeffreys just to be careful. Getting their livestock and wagons clear. "

"We'll come help. " Chris turned to Nathan. "Go tell Ezra what's happening. See if he's up to going, too."

"He shouldn't be riding right now," Jackson protested.

"But he needs to be included," Josiah reminded.

Chris indicated the upper level of the building. "Don't want him left alone unless he knows he's on his own. We should have told him last time, instead we made it seem like we deserted him."

"Wasn't like that." Buck shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"No, but it might have seemed that way to him." Josiah scratched his head. "Like we think he's too unstable to include. We need to convince him otherwise."

Nathan headed back inside, a muttered, "Fine," thrown over his shoulder.

Chris thanked Dunkin and wasn't surprised when Oliver rode back out. At least he wasn't punishing the horse or being reckless.

"We need to catch this guy," Buck looked at Chris.

"We will."

"Chris!" Nathan's voice echoed through the empty saloon, a repeat of earlier in the day.

"Oh no." Josiah moved first, but Jackson was there at the doors already, frantic and breathless.

"Ezra's gone."

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Ezra woke with a gasp and moan of pain. He tried to move, but froze in sheer terror. The strap. It was back. Breathing was almost impossible, the belt around Ezra's neck was so tight. It held him fast.

A new agony swept over him as he realized his arms had been wrenched back. A tree. He was bound to a tree just thick enough to bind his arms back around the trunk of it. Struggling, he gagged and fought for breath. Pain stabbed at the back of his head as the rough tree bark dug deep through his hair and into the skin.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Ezra's eyes searched until he found his assailant standing to his left, almost out of his field of vision. He couldn't turn his head without choking.

The man laughed and stepped closer, squatting in front of Ezra. He lifted a lit lantern, chasing the shadows away from his features.

Ezra tried to speak but the pressure on his throat was too tight, he wheezed, trying to pull back from the ghost in front of him but he was held immobile.

The man before him looked so much like Tom Wyler. 'Think Ezra.' He commanded himself as the man lowered the lamp again. 'Push aside the fear and think.'

It couldn't be Wyler. Wyler was dead. He was dead. Ezra repeated it to himself as he fought his panic. He felt ready to throw up but knew he couldn't, not like this.

It took a moment, then he blinked and saw it. This man's hair was slightly darker than Tom's blond. He was thinner and his eyes were dark dark brown.

"Ah, you finally see it don't you?" The man swung the lamp as he gestured. "He was my brother," he added simply. "And now you'll die because he did."

The lantern swung again and Ezra followed it with his eyes, searching frantically to figure out where they were. The forest, there were other trees surrounding them. He searched for landmarks. How far from town were they?

"Don't go worrying," Wyler's brother told him. "No one around but us and those who might be close by are a little busy." He waved again, the swinging lamp making the shadows dance creepily.

"There's a little fire they're dealing with." The man's arm stilled as he pointed.

Ezra strained to see out of the corner of his eye…smoke.

His eyes flicked back to his captor.

"That's right." The man grinned and patted Standish's bad shoulder with a comforting gesture that sent waves of new viscous pain through Ezra's body.

He screamed but had no voice. No air. His vision blurred as he struggled to stay conscious and breathe. Breathe. He forced air into his lungs, he could smell the smoke now.

A hand reached for him and suddenly the man was pulling at the belt. It loosened slightly and Ezra sucked in a breath. He was still not able to move or breathe freely, but he could get air into his struggling lungs.

"Don't want you to choke out before the real show gets here."

A hand smacked his cheek twice. "Don't go anywhere," he chuckled.

Ezra watched, wide eyed and helpless as the light moved away and left him in utter blackness.

TBC...


	9. Chapter 9

Vin paused and ran a hand over his sweating brow. Damn it was hot. The night breeze was cool, but it couldn't cut through the growing heat of the fire. It burned free, eating through brush and dry branches and licking up trunks of trees faster than imaginable. It was marvelous, fascinating and terrifying all rolled together in one powerful force. It lit the night sky and sent beautiful sprays of sparks into the air.

"Anything?" Buck asked, coming up beside him.

Tanner shook his head. They'd searched the town for Ezra and found Chaucer safe in his stall. As soon as he saw the horse, Vin knew for certain. Someone had Ezra, the same someone who'd been tormenting him and starting these fires.

Worry ate at him. Where had they taken Standish?

Vin watched as JD and Nathan helped move another wagon away from the reach of the flames. It was the last one. Now there was nothing more to do about the fire except wait and watch.

A small crowd gathered, settlers and townsfolk alike, arriving to try to help and to watch, mesmerized at the terrible sight. To one side, women and children stood. He saw Mary Travis and Mrs. Potter among them, wrapping blankets around children and putting supporting arms around emotionally drained women.

Closer to the fire, a larger group of battered and weary men gathered. They were dirty and sweaty with shoulders slumped in defeat.

Vin caught sight of Chris and Josiah coming toward him and Wilmington.

"Anything?" Josiah repeated Buck's question.

"Nothing obvious," Tanner answered. "Too dark to track anything," he voiced his frustration. He'd scoured the alley behind the saloon but night had fallen and even with the aid of a lantern he only could guess that Ezra'd been taken on horseback- until he had the morning light, he couldn't be certain.

"Hey guys?" JD came up to them uncharacteristically quiet. Nathan joined them, having finished treating a few minor burns in the group of men. "Do you see that guy at the edge of the tree line?" Dunne gave a small nod over his shoulder. "He look familiar to you?"

Casually, Vin and Chris turned. By the line of trees, yet untouched by the flames, a man stood apart from any group. A lantern hung in one hand as he watched the flames. Occasionally, he'd glance at the people, then back into the forest behind him before returning his stare to the flames. Shadows of light danced over his face.

"Holy shit," Buck breathed out as the light intensified and lit the man's features. He took a step forward.

If Vin hadn't known better he'd have sworn he was looking at Tom Wyler.

Chris grabbed Buck's arm, keeping him still. "Go that way," he motioned subtly. "We split up and make sure he has nowhere to run. We need him alive," he reminded.

The Wyler look-alike was distracted enough by the fire that they were almost on him before he noticed. He glanced from Chris to Vin suddenly, starting like he was going to run for it before he saw Buck and Josiah moving in beside him. He stopped and smiled. He didn't even try to draw his weapon.

"You're too late," he told Tanner as Chris grabbed him and took his pistol, handing it off to Sanchez. "You'll have to live with it forever."

"Who the hell are you?" Buck asked, taking the lantern from the man. "Where's Ezra?"

"Chuck Miller," the stranger answered easily. "And your friend is in hell by now."

"No," Josiah choked out.

Vin stared hard at Miller. "Wyler was your brother?"

"And you killed him, you bastard," Miller sneered the words.

Scanning the man's face, Tanner looked for any clue as to what had happened to Ezra.

A tree exploded suddenly, splitting down the center and sending a massive array of sparks into the night. A few of the women screamed. The men gasped.

Vin watched Miller' expression closely as Chuck glanced toward the commotion. He didn't see the satisfaction of revenge, instead he saw…anticipation.

"Damn." Tanner snatched the lantern from Buck and took off into the forest, avoiding the flames and ducking the smoke as best he could.

"Vin!" He heard Chris' shout and Miller screaming.

"You're too late, Tanner. He's already burning!"

But he couldn't stop, not if there was even a chance that Ezra was still alive.

Raising the lantern, he slowed. The smoke was thick and the weak light barely cut through it. It managed to cast just enough light that Vin spotted the obvious trail Miller had left when he plodded out of the forest.

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Ezra struggled with his bindings, silent screams tearing from his restricted throat as pain knifed though his shoulder and upper body. He choked and gasped, barking harsh coughs as the smoke around him continued to thicken. It hovered above and around him, stinging his eyes and stealing what little air he could suck into his straining lungs.

He could see the fire now, moving closer as it consumed its abundance of fuel. He listened as it crackled and popped and hissed its way towards him, dancing wildly from tree to tree. He could feel its heat, like the mutated warmth of a comforting campfire. It was coming for him.

There'd been no sign of his captor and now, as he watched the flames race closer, Ezra weighed his options.

He could wait. He could sit in the dirt, continuing to struggle in a hopeless attempt to free himself until the flames finally reached him. If he was lucky, the smoke would take him first, but he'd never been much for relying on luck.

His other option…Ezra swallowed painfully feeling the full width of the band of leather that held him fast against the tree. All he had to do was pull forward a little bit; it wouldn't take much to cut off what little air he was getting now.

The idea of letting the belt win sent waves of anger and shame through him and yet…it was that or burn.

A tree popped nearby and Ezra tried to turn his head, but the belt held him in place. He coughed roughly, squeezing his eyes closed at the new level of pain that assaulted his body.

He couldn't take any more. Tears filled his eyes, but instead of bringing relief to his dry eyes, the stinging intensified. He wasn't sure he could do this. Slowly he forced himself forward, but the moment the belt cut off his air completely he stopped, slumping back.

No. The word resounded through his mind like an echo in a canyon. He wanted to live. He didn't want to give up or give in to his pain and fear. He didn't want to let the others down with his own weakness.

'They'll never know' a small voice whispered in the night, but he pushed it away, he would know.

The heat around him intensified as if mocking his vain hope. He wheezed again, searching for air as sweat rolled down his face and back. It was too hot.

"Ezra!"

Time froze and he opened his eyes at the sound of his name barked out over the crackling flames.

"Ezra!"

Vin.

He opened his mouth to scream for the tracker, but he was still voiceless. Wildly, he began to thrash, kicking his legs in the dirt, ignoring the thousand blades of agony that cut through his upper body with each movement.

Suddenly Tanner was there dropping to his knees in front of Ezra and gasping for air in the layers of smoke. His blue eyes lifted and met Ezra's.

"Mother of God," Tanner whispered the words even as he flew into motion. He went for the belt first.

Ezra gagged and choked as it pulled tighter, struggling even as he knew Vin was helping. It only lasted a moment and then instantly his head fell forward and he dragged huge gulps of air in only to cough from the suffocating thickness of the dark smoke. He felt Tanner working on the rope binding his wrists when he heard someone crashing toward them.

Buck and Chris seemed to materialize out of the clouds of billowing smoke. Both wore bandanas over their nose and mouth. Buck winked at Ezra as he moved to help Vin.

Chris sank down in front of Ezra moving in close and putting one hand behind Standish's neck and raising a canteen to his lips before Vin even had him completely free.

Ezra drank greedily, ignoring the way the water seemed to scour his abused throat. He tried to say thank you but at that moment Vin freed his arms and instead he swayed weakly, a small squeal escaping as he tried to scream.

"Jesus." Chris caught him and held him up. "Stay with us, Ezra."

"We need to get out of here." Buck grimaced at the growing flames. Turning he realized the path they'd come in on was now blazing. "We're trapped."

"No, this way." Vin motioned. "Stay low."

Buck moved to the other side of Ezra and together he and Chris half crawled, half dragged the southerner after Tanner.

"I know this hurts, Ezra, but hang on to us," Chris sounded through the haze of pain. Ezra lost any account of how far they crawled through the burning forest until suddenly he was sinking into icy cold water. He stiffened and gasped. They were in a stream.

"We got you, Ezra. We're almost clear." Chris voice was ragged and abused by the smoke.

Just when Ezra was sure he couldn't take the pain anymore, everything stopped. He felt Buck and Chris lower him the rest of the way to the ground, turning him carefully onto his back.

"Damn it," Chris growled. "His shoulder's been out this whole time."

"If we'd stopped back there we'd have been roasted," Buck reminded.

"Can you fix it?" He heard Vin ask.

"If you hold him."

Hand and grips shifted, then there was a softly whispered "Sorry ,Ezra" before his shoulder exploded and the world vanished.

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Ezra came awake slowly, blinking dry crusty eyes open to find himself in Nathan's clinic.

"Afternoon," Josiah rumbled beside him and slowly, carefully, Ezra turned his head in Sanchez's direction.

"How," he tried to ask, but his throat erupted and he immediately started choking. Pain vibrated through his body as Josiah eased him up and held him until the worst had passed. A cup was pressed to his lips and he drank slowly, relieved as the water cooled his burning throat.

"Try not to talk much. Whisper if you have to say something." Gently the big man eased him back down again.

His shoulder ached, but the arm was bound tightly to his bare chest, the knife like pain gone.

"Others?" he questioned in a gasp.

"They're all safe," Josiah answered. "Breathed in a tad too much smoke, but they're fine."

Relief filled Ezra. "What?" he whispered cautiously.

Josiah merely nodded. "Tom Wyler had a brother two years his junior, Chuck Miller."

Sanchez reached forward and readjusted the blanket over Ezra that'd slid down during his coughing fit. "Miller admitted he was the one Wyler was sending wires to back when you were attacked. Seems Guy Royal had promised the brothers land of their own if they got to those land deeds before the settlers did. When that didn't work- Royal backed out and wouldn't give Miller any property. His revenge was to try and burn out the settlers…and go after you. Tried to make you think you were losing your mind first."

Ezra closed his eyes, weariness pushing him back into darkness. "It worked," he whispered faintly.

"No, it almost worked, big difference there, son." Josiah's voice assured as it faded.

When Ezra awoke again, he heard voices. Josiah was still there but Chris, Vin and Nathan were, too.

"Who found him?" Josiah asked.

"Buck," Vin answered, his soft voice sounding rough and harsh, after effects of the smoke he'd inhaled while rescuing him. Ezra felt a flash of guilt with the thought.

"What happened?" Nathan's voice drew him back to the on-going conversation.

"He hung himself, "Chris sounded tired. "with his own belt."

Silence descended on the four and Ezra let himself sink back into sleep again.

The third time Ezra woke, Josiah was sitting beside him again.

"You ever take a break?" he tested his voice carefully, taking each word slowly. His accent was thick and heavy.

A slow grin spread across Josiah's face. "Well, you see, brother, you've been sleeping for nearly two days. How do you know I've not been taking breaks."

Ezra stared at Josiah. "Two days?" he gasped and started to push himself up.

Awkwardly balanced, Josiah easily pushed him back down. "Stay put," the preacher ordered, keeping a warm hand on Ezra's chest. Once sure that Ezra was obeying, he moved his hand.

"First off, you're okay. Roughed up quite a bit and you're gonna have to keep that shoulder still for longer than you'll like, but everything will heal." Josiah assured.

"The fire?"

"Burned itself out once it reached the stream. "

"Miller is dead," Ezra declared suddenly.

Josiah paused. "You heard that?"

Weakly, Standish admitted he had.

"Yes, he is," Josiah leaned back in his chair.

"He was there during the first attack." Though he had to whisper, Ezra found he was able to breathe and talk without much difficulty. "I remembered after he left me in the woods," he admitted.

He saw compassion fill Josiah's eyes and closed his. The door to the clinic opened and he listened to the familiar tread of Vin's stride cross the room.

"You remember?" Josiah questioned.

He opened his eyes and locked gazes with Vin.

"I remember every moment of the attack," he confessed. "Just not all the faces."

They sat then and listened without interrupting as Ezra talked, spilling details he'd buried and hidden. He let it all go. Every comment, every blow, every kick, every painful, humiliating moment of his attackers dragging him through the dirt like a beaten animal.

With details went the bitterness, the shame and the guilt until all that was left was Ezra, bruised, broken, hollowed out and scarred but unburdened and at peace.

When he was finished and silent, he watched as Vin slowly uncurled white knuckled fists and stood. Tanner took a step closer, careful not to crowd,but not shying away. There was no judgment in his eyes, no pity, only cold deadly anger that Ezra knew instinctively was not aimed at him.

"When you do remember the others," Tanner whispered thickly. "You let me know." Then he nodded once and slipped out of the room.

"I've made him angry." Ezra looked at Sanchez. "Not at me," he acknowledged.

Sanchez met his gaze and it was then that Ezra realized Josiah was barely hanging onto his temper.

"I didn't let go of my anger for you to take it on," Ezra said gently.

The air seemed to whoosh out of Josiah in one long breath. "It ain't a bad thing to want justice for a friend, " he said.

"Unless it turns you into someone like Miller," Ezra point out. "Consumed by negative emotions until that's all that's left."

Josiah looked again at Ezra, a smile forming slowly as his features relaxed. "He made the wrong choice," Sanchez acknowledged. "He fed the wrong wolf."

* * *

Thank you for hanging in there till the end! Hope you enjoyed it.


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